Cicero's Dead (18 page)

There was a weighty silence and when Karsagian
spoke again, it was with immense gravity.

“We don’t have much to connect Clipper to the
actor’s death. Just because he had an altercation with him, doesn’t mean he was
involved in his murder.”

I grinned and shook my head in disbelief. “Wait,
isn’t that exactly what I said to you when you accused me of murdering Tarkanian,
because I’d argued with him?”

Trapped, the cops glanced at each other. Then
Jansen said, “So what?”

“I know thinking is a struggle for him, but I’m
surprised at you, Karsagian.”

Instead of lunging at me, or sniping back, Jansen
just stared. I locked eyes with him, and we both knew that a reckoning was
coming.

Karsagian said, “I don’t buy your story about
getting tipped off that Tarkanian could be dirty, and I don’t believe you can
produce your contact.”

“I never said I would.”

“I’m real tired of your shell game. Now either you
tell me what you’ve been leaving out, or I’ll find probable cause to transport
you to Men’s Central, and put you in K10 with Mario and Sergio and Bustamante.
You feel me?”

Jansen finally looked happy. “You’re gonna end up
with your ass in the air.”

“How could I have whacked the doc when I was in
San Francisco?”

“Don’t know and don’t care,” hissed Jansen. “But
unless you tell us everything, you’re gonna get well and truly fucked.”

“I want my attorney.”

The atmosphere changed as they exchanged concerned
glances.

“You can’t deny me. You do, and it’ll go even
worse for you when it comes out that a licensed detective, an innocent licensed
detective, was arrested, incarcerated, beaten and denied legal counsel.”

They looked at each other and although a lot of
bad things happen to prisoners, they knew that this was one problem that could
blow up in their faces.

Karsagian said, “We’ll get you your phone call.”

“Thanks.”

“Fuck you,” snarled Jansen.

“I will tell you this; I didn’t whack the doc,
didn’t have anything to do with it directly or indirectly and you both know
that. Right?”

“Go on,” the detective said.

“While Clipper’s the key, there’s someone even
bigger to be had, who, I believe, is directly involved and, is pulling most, if
not all the strings.”

The tension in the cell was palpable. “Who?” asked
Karsagian.

“James Halladay.”

“The James Halladay?”

“No other.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

The cops were salivating like two starving dogs at
a banquet. I told them how he’d insisted that his involvement be hushed up, how
he’d produced the phony death certificate and how he’d said that if I didn’t
play ball, I’d never work again. They listened in silence and I could feel
their wheels churning.

“Are you willing,” said Karsagian, “to testify before
the grand jury?”

“In return for immunity.”

“Jesus,” said Karsagian, “you want a lot, don’t
you?”

“It’s my ass on the line, not yours.”

He nodded. “All right.”

Jansen was livid. “You’re not seriously gonna give
this asshole immunity?”

“Relax yourself.”

“This is bullshit.”

“You can leave, Jansen,” I quipped.

It was too much for him and he flailed with a wild
left. I swept the blow away and hit him hard in the left kidney. He screamed
and went down like the sack of shit he is.

As Karsagian yanked him to his feet, he wrenched
his arm away. “Get the fuck off’a me!”

He guided him to the door. “You deserved that.”

“I hate that son of a bitch!”

“I don’t want this collar screwed up. Get out and
stay out.”

I wiggled my fingers at Jansen and smiled.

He said, “I’ll see you soon enough.”

“Anytime, bro.”

His glare was unadulterated hatred. Then he left.

Karsagian got on the phone. “I want James Halladay
picked up and brought down to Parker for questioning…yeah that’s right,
him…okay.”

There’s nothing the law loves more than going
after a dirty, powerful, high-priced lawyer.

The detective hung up and turned to me. “I’m gonna
let you and your buddy go, but, and you hear me now, Nick, if it turns out that
your fingers are dirty, in any way, I’ll let Jansen take over the case. We
clear?”

I nodded solemnly.

They gave us back our personal effects and guns,
and we took a taxi out to an impound lot in Culver City to retrieve Leo’s
Yukon. Why they stashed it way out in Culver City when there were three lots
nearby is beyond me, but I suspect it had something to do with Mr. Green. When
we got there, it was obvious that the vehicle had been searched. On the drive
back, as we sat in traffic on Interstate 10, Bobby, feening for CNN, snapped on
the radio. The newscaster announced a breaking story about a prominent Los
Angeles defense attorney who had been abducted from his Hollywood Hills
mansion. LAPD had found signs of a break-in and struggle; the living room was
trashed.

I glanced at Bobby. “I almost feel sorry for him.”

“Screw that asshole.”

“I said, ‘almost.’”

Bobby nodded and we fell silent. Then a few
minutes later he spoke up. “Dude, we gotta talk about something. The silence is
killing me.”

“Relax, bro. We’re almost home.”

“I wanna tell you this story.”

I could tell that it was important to him, so I
smiled and replied, “Okay, sure.”

His words came slowly, cryptically, like they held
both question and answer. “It was maybe five years after I’d got back from Nam
and by then, I’d pretty much reached the end of my rope. I couldn’t get Charlie
out of my mind. Dude was haunting me. I was in San Francisco and had discovered
some caves at a beach, near Half Moon Bay, south of the City. So I drive down
there late one afternoon. I’m wearing fatigues and carrying my Bowie knife.
“The caves are like dark triangles in the rock face, and I sit down below them
on the beach, facing the water, watching the tide come in. The sun’s going down
so I take off my prosthesis, bury it in the sand, and just sit there,
deliberately waiting. The tide comes in and pretty soon the water’s up to my
neck.”

He looked at me and although I wanted to
acknowledge him, I kept my eyes on the road.

“Anyway, the undertow was powerful and started
pulling me out to sea. It’s completely dark, no stars, just blackness everywhere.
I spent half my boyhood in Mobile in the water, and I’m a damned good swimmer,
so I decide to strike out for those caves, but each wave is bigger than the one
before, and the harder I fight, the more I’m being sucked out to sea. I’m
fighting for my life now, don’t know how I did it but somehow I reach the
headland. Had to be half a mile out. Waves as big as mountains. Suddenly the
undertow hits some type of cross current and propels me back in toward those
caves.”

“Jesus, bro.”

“With each wave, I’m carried closer to the caves,
but there’s rocks and the waves are bursting like napalm. There’s nothing I can
do. So I don’t.”

“You don’t fight it?”

“No point. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I felt
peaceful. It was great. The Vietnamese have this old saying, ‘water will always
find the easiest path,’ and it did. A wave picked me up and surfed me right
between the rocks and suddenly I was in one of the caves. It seemed like it
happened instantly but it must’ve really taken ten minutes or so. I’m inside
the cave and it’s pitch black, and I know Charlie’s in there too. I killed
those gook tunnel fuckers more times than I can remember, but--”

Bobby paused and his eyes glistened. I wanted to
say something but knew better and kept my mouth shut.

“--But he took my soul.” He fell silent and
dragged one of his rough, massive hands across his eyes. He sighed deeply and
continued. “With each wave, the water gets higher. If I stay there, I’ll drown.
If I go deeper in the tunnel, Charlie’ll kill me. Fucked if I do. Fucked if I
don’t. The tunnel’s almost full and the water’s ice cold. I found a spot, like
an indent in the rocks and wedged myself in. I pulled my blade and for some
damn reason I still can’t figure out, I ran my thumb across it. I’m bleeding
like a stuck pig and my blood’s mixing with the water and I know that soon
enough some fucking shark’s gonna smell it and I’m dead, if Charlie don’t get
me first.”

“You once told me that the enemy could smell you
in the tunnels.”

He nodded, his jaw set tight, the muscles flexing
rapidly. “We could smell each other. Each other’s fear.”

We were finally off the freeway, getting close to
Bobby’s house, so I pulled over and parked to give him time to finish his story

“Then I see him.”

“Who?”

“Charlie.”

“You hallucinated?”

“No. Only he wasn’t a gook with an AK, he was a
shark. A Great White, I guess. It was massive and just cruised right past me.”

“Fuck, bro.”

“It freaked me. I suddenly realized that Charlie
was in Nam, dead and buried, where I’d left him and where he wanted to be. But
the shark was real. You understand?”

“Not really.”

“It was the physical manifestation of my own
fear.”

“Physical manifestation?”

“That’s what my therapist said.”

“I didn’t know you had a therapist.”

“Fuck, yeah. Why d’ya think I’m still alive?

“Okay. Got it.”

“It sucks being alone. You’ve got Cassady. It’s
the loneliness that’s killing me now.”

“I didn’t know, bro. You always told me you liked
being alone, with your goats.” I knew it was a lie and felt instantly guilty.

Bobby gave me a strange look. “I do, mostly.”

I nodded and waited for him to finish his story.

“Anyway, the shark smelled blood and I knew it was
only a matter of time before he figured out where I was.”

“How did you see it? I mean, you said it was
really dark?”

“Full moon that’s reflecting off the water.”

I nodded.

“What I didn’t know was that an injured seal was
also hiding in the cave. It tried to make a run for it, but it was no good. The
shark snapped down on him and bit him in half. Man, I’ve never seen so much
blood in the water. The shark eats what he wants and leaves. There’s bits of
meat and blubber and blood floating around me. But I was damned glad it was him
and not me. I put the knife away and try to hang on. I’m freezing and can’t
stop trembling and my teeth chatter so hard, I think I’m gonna bite my tongue
off. At times I prayed and at times I screamed, and some of the time I sang
those fucking marching songs that we all knew. Finally the water recedes. Even
the longest night has to end.”

I looked at him and I was proud to know the man.

“The tide goes out, and I follow it stomping
through the sand into a cold, grey dawn. You know how it gets on the California
coast up north. Earth and sky are a sheet of gray mist. I dig up my prosthesis
and get out of there. I had a good breakfast that morning.”

“What did you eat?”

“You know, the heart attack stuff -- eggs and
bacon and hash browns and blueberry pancakes with gobs of butter and three or
four cups of coffee. All the while I was shivering and my clothes are still
wet. The waitress is looking at me like I’m crazy, but keeps filling my cup. I
tipped her a five and drove back to San Francisco.”

“That’s why I respect you.”

“Because I left her a five?”

“No, because you’ve made it this far. You decided
to live.”

“You know what, bubba, that’s why I respect
myself.”

Part Three

Chapter I – Ladies Love Outlaws

It was Sunday afternoon
and the air was clear.
 
People
thronged the open-air markets. We stopped at a burrito stand near a park and
watched the Aztec dancers go through their paces while we ate.

Bobby slathered hot sauce onto his burrito and
washed it down with Diet Coke. “What do we do now?”

“We wait while LAPD look for Ernie and Tom--”

“--The fake cops?”

“Yeah and come all over themselves trying to find
Halladay.”

“Clipper, that motherfucka, must be in ecstasy.”

“He might be. Halladay sure isn’t.” I finished my
burrito and swigged the rest of my Sprite.

“I never saw that coming, him snatching the
lawyer.”

“All that’s left now is for him to get his hands
on Jade. Then it’s mission accomplished.”

“Not exactly.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Clipper wants you along with everybody else.”

“Then let the fucker come get me.”

Bobby finished his diet coke and dumped the can
into the blue recycle bin. “You know your Revolutionary War history, right?”

“Pretty well.”

“How did we turn it around?”

“Nathaniel Greene and the Swamp Fox, Francis
Marion. Guerrilla tactics. Strike fast, hit hard, lose the battle, win the
war.”

“Very good. Most Americans have no idea how we
won. They may not even know that there was a war.”

“Sad but true.”

“You know what made the Vietnam conflict so
difficult?”

“We faced a better enemy.”

“They haunted us. Our command did everything
possible to adjust to their guerilla tactics, and never succeeded. But that
wasn’t the real reason.”

“They were fanatics. Willing to die for their
cause.”

“Bingo.”

“You’re talking about Clipper.”

“Yep. From what you’ve told me, you’re right, this
is all a game to him and he’s exactly as crazy as the Cong was.”

“Then we better make sure that we find him before
he finds us.”

Bobby nodded and burped. It smelled like beans and
guacamole. We waited while the wind wafted it away. “Sorry, bro.”

I shrugged.

“You know, the Vietcong had their own way of
inflicting ultimate fear. It was more terrifying than death itself.”

I looked at him. The sun went behind a cloud and I
shivered.

“They’d cut their victims into three pieces.
Buddhists believe that robs you of your soul. To our South Vietnamese allies,
that was 1000 times worse than any torture or death.”

“That’s why Clipper had them cut Ron Cera’s head
off.”

“Imagine what he’ll do to Jade if he gets hold of
her.”

When we got to Bobby’s house, the television was
off and the radio was blasting hip-hop.
 
Cassady, who was wearing a tight-fitting pullover jersey, was teaching
Jade dance moves. She had tied her floral blouse above her waist displaying the
firmest, tautest belly anyone had ever seen complete with the ubiquitous belly
piercing that the girls of today favor. Brad was sitting on the sofa with a
look of wonder, taking it all in. Cassady, Jade and Brad weren’t aware that
Bobby and I were watching them.

“This is the America I adore,” Brad said. “Hot
chicks with no morals. The world knows we’re bound to fall but can’t wait to
fall with us.”

“This isn’t hot,” said Cassady. “This is lukewarm.
If I showed you hot, it would--” She saw my face and gasped. “Oh, God!”

She fell into my arms, her chest crushed against
me, and I knew why I had fallen in love that night in San Francisco in 1984.

Jade and Brad were stunned.

Cassady led me down the hall into the spare room.
She swept a few of Jade’s garments off the bed and we lay down.

“Who did that to you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She gently kissed my swollen face, struggling to
hold back her tears.

“Did you give as good as you got?”

“Better.”

“So what’s gonna happen now?”

“We all need to lay low and let five-oh do their
thing. In the meantime, let’s get out of here.”

Cassady stood up, pulling me to my feet. “And
where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

We went back to the living room where the music was
still playing, but now no one was dancing. I turned it off and the silence
crushed us.

I said, “Have a seat, Jade.” Cassady took her by
the hand and steered her toward the sofa. She looked bewildered and very young.
“Halladay’s been kidnapped. Those two fake cops, Fishburne and Koncak, snatched
him. We still don’t know what their real names are but we do know they work for
Clipper. They’re also the ones that abducted your father.”

Cassady held her hands, but Jade was wooden and
didn’t react. The shock was starting to penetrate. “They killed him, didn’t
they?” Her voice, low.

“Halladay wanted him dead. They grabbed him but
turned him over to Clipper instead. I don’t know what happened after that.”

I’d seen Jade sink before but this time it was
downright scary. Fifteen minutes before her face had been bright and vibrant.
Now it was like a death-mask, something you’d find painted on a sarcophagus.
When she finally spoke her voice was flat, toneless, which was somehow worse
than hysteria. “They tortured Daddy, just like Ron.”

“No way to know for sure.”

“Don’t bullshit me.” There was no venom in her
voice, just resignation.

There was nothing any of us could say. This path
she had to walk alone.

“Probably.”

“And now they’re going to torture Halladay.”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

Her tears flowed silent and nameless.

“Cassady, grab some of our things and let’s go.”

She nodded, looked at Jade and headed for the
spare room.

Brad said, “Where are you going?”

“To spend some time with my wife.” He nodded and
fear drifted into his eyes. “Bobby’s staying here?”

“Bet your ass I am.” Bobby answered for me.

Jade went to the bathroom and closed the door. We
could hear her crying.

I said quietly, “Watch her.”

“Can I keep Cassady’s Beretta?” asked Brad.

“I’ve got plenty of weapons, Sport,” said Bobby, a
gleam in his eyes.

We exchanged glances. “Be ready to move fast if I
call you.”

Bobby nodded and Cassady returned with a flight
bag. “Let’s go,” she said, placing her pistol in its hard case, putting it in
her bag.

I drove the Yukon to Leo’s, with Cassady following
in the Impala. The place was deserted, so I parked next to my Camry and dropped
the keys in the mailbox. Then we drove south into Orange County, armed to the
teeth. Cassady nuzzled over against me as Waylon Jennings sang “Ladies Love
Outlaws” on the radio.

We stopped in Westminster where we had Vietnamese
food and drank several glasses of sweet Thai iced tea. Then we found a
nondescript Motel 6 in Garden Grove, off Beach Boulevard. Cassady tenderly
washed and cleaned my damaged face and put drops in my bloodshot eye. She
placed her Beretta on the nightstand and we made love. Then we slept and woke
up around seven the next morning.

“Maybe we’ll just stay here for a while,” murmured
Cassady. “If you really think we can’t go back to the house.”

“When this is over, we’ll call Tomas and have him
replace the French doors.”

“I loved them,” she sighed. “I hope you shot those
bastards.”

I said nothing but I think she felt me tense up.
She started to speak and stopped.

“I’m gonna hit the shower,” I said and started to
get up.

“Not before you fuck me.”

“Can I pee first?”

After that we slept some more, got up around 10
and showered. Clean clothes can feel so damn good. We checked our guns, dropped
off the keycard with reception and split. We drove around aimlessly for a while
looking at nothing in particular and when we’d worked up an appetite we stopped
and had an amazing Vietnamese lunch, then got back on the road. Cassady drove
and I called Maleah.

Stephanie, Cassady’s sister, answered, serious and
dour as ever. “Are you guys okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because my sister didn’t look too good when I
dropped her off at the airport.”

“She’s great and sitting right next to me. Now let
me speak to Maleah, please.”

“Fine.”

Maleah, excited, blurted with that childish
enthusiasm I love so much, “I’m going to beat Sam, Dad. I already took his
queen.”

“Good work. Now do you remember how to do a
checkmate the easy way?”

“How many times are you gonna tell me?”

“Got it.”

“Are you with Mom?”

“Yep and we just had Vietnamese food for lunch.”

“No fair!”

“It was delicious,” I said with an emphasis on the
“Dee” and laughed.

“I thought you were chasing the bad guys.”

“I am. We’re just taking a little break.”

“Hurry up, Dad, I had trouble sleeping last night.”

“Did you leave the light on?”

“Yeah, but I was still scared. I had to watch a
video to get to sleep.”

“Which one?”

“Some dumb romance. Stephanie doesn’t have the
kind of comedies I like.”

“Okay, gotta go.”

“Can I speak to mom?”

“She’s driving.”

“Okay. Love ya, Dad.”

“Love ya too.”

I called Tony but he didn’t pick up. On our way
back to the motel, we stopped at a Blockbuster and rented some videos. Back to
our room, we took a shower together, stretched out on the bed, and watched “The
Quiet American” with Michael Caine. When it was over, I stepped outside and
called Bobby.

“Nick, we’re all starting to go stir crazy.”

“Then it’s lucky I got a job for you.”

“Tonight?” His excitement was obvious at the
prospect of something dangerous.

“You got it.”

“I’m waitin’, Boss.”

“Go to Home Depot and pick up a portable
reciprocating saw, and a couple of vanadium blades.”

“Okay.”

“Bring a striker, and I’ll meet you at 11:30 on
the corner of Franklin and Beachwood. Use the van.”

“Got it.”

“Wear dark clothes and bring the bullet-proof
vests, helmets and some heavy artillery.”

Bobby chuckled. “Nice.”

“Did you talk to pig boy?”

“Not exactly. I grunted at him. We’re cool.”

“You sure?”

What did I just say, bro?”

“You’re the man.”

“Best damn believe it.”

“Later, Bobby.”

I hung up and went back inside. Cassady threw me a
dazzling but enigmatic smile and went back to reading. I flicked on the TV and
watched
Family Guy
, my favorite. I
felt kind of bad because Maleah wasn’t there to watch it with me.